The Certainty of God in an Uncertain World
In the apocalyptic novel The Road, the father says to the son, “If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe the thing to do is to always expect it.”
In the year 2020, how can we do anything but expect trouble? A pandemic. Racial injustice. Financial crisis. Unprecedented unemployment. Those are the big things, but they affect all our little lives.
If 2020 has taught us anything, perhaps it’s taught us to always expect trouble. Doing so saves us from disappointment when it arrives at our doorstep like the latest Amazon package. We live in a fallen world. We can’t deny that now. Even our pretty things are stained. Our hopes marked with despair.
So, what do we find as we look at the storyline of the Bible in the midst of the pain of our world? Not what we would expect.
AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY
Who signed us up for this journey? I don’t remember the application. I remember the registration for my sons’ baseball season. I remember the “Agree” button at the bottom of the screen. However, I don’t recall signing on the dotted line for the suffering that this year’s contract delivered.
We’re all Bilbo Baggins now. That wonderful character from the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien in The Hobbit didn’t know what was knocking on his door when he opened to find Gandalf and a dozen dwarves. He wasn’t looking for an adventure.
As you may recall, Hobbits don’t particularly like adventures. Maybe you don’t either. Too late now. You’re in it. Welcome to your unexpected journey.
“The problem with journeys such as this is that we don’t particularly care for the ones we don’t choose, and who chose this year?”
The problem with journeys such as this is that we don’t particularly care for the ones we don’t choose, and who chose this year? We were going along with life, weren’t we? Yes, some of us were suffering mightily before, but most of us? Probably not. We were like Bilbo when Gandalf first arrived: “‘Good Morning!’ said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green.”
The day was bright and full of hope. Settled in our shires, we were content to stay.
God had other plans.
THERE AND BACK AGAIN
Where are we going? Who can say? The road still stretches out before us. One step at a time, we’re making our way there, wherever “there” is.
Is “there” a COVID-19 vaccine? Is it a restoration of pay at work? Is it equality our country never gave? Maybe “there” is different for us all, but we can’t get there without all of us. “We’re in this together,” we hear. So why does it feel like we’re so far apart?
All many of us want to do is go back to the way things were, but we’ve left those shores. We can’t even see them now. A new normal approaches, one we can’t figure out, and one we may not particularly like, but one that is as sure as tomorrow’s morning.
As with all journeys, we won’t be the same after this. Suffering always leaves scars, and the deepest scars never go away. Loved ones will tragically die. The twists and turns won’t make sense. We will wonder if maybe this is the end.
Does the road we’re on now have anything but trouble? Are even our altruistic pursuits, like racial equality, hopeless?
We’re looking for something to tell us this will all work out in the end. We call these “uncertain times.” The truth is we never have anything but uncertain times. Our times are not in our hands; they’re in the hands of God. What we’re really looking for in the uncertainty of our times is the certainty of God.
THE CERTAINTY OF GOD’S PROMISE
The writer to the Hebrews knew his audience needed this kind of certainty. As he thought it through, he realized it was an ancient need—at least as old as Abraham. So in Hebrews 6:13–20, he gives insight into God’s heart:
For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.
What was the promise? It was a place. It was a people. It was, ultimately, a Person. Salvation. Moreover, the promise to Abraham is not Abraham’s only. It belongs to all his children (Gal. 3:9).
In every promise, we’re looking for assurance. Abraham didn’t face a pandemic (that I know of). However, he was a foreigner in a foreign land (Heb. 11:9), which certainly included facing injustice. God called him into uncertain times, but not without the certainty of himself.
“In every uncertain time, we have the certainty of God’s promise.”
He’s doing the same for us. In every uncertain time, we have the certainty of God’s promise. He doesn’t have to promise us anything. He’s God, after all. Still, he wants to “show more convincingly . . . the unchangeable character of his purpose” (Heb. 6:17). God wants us to know that his promise to bring us through isn’t based on a hunch or a good feeling, but upon his very character as God.
We have a hope set before us. There is a tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations (Rev. 22:2). There is One who has come to set the captives and oppressed free (Luke 4:18). When our days feel unsteady and unsure, Jesus will be the stability of our times (Is. 33:6). Sure and steadfast, he is the anchor of our souls (Heb. 6:19).
WHERE JESUS HAS GONE
The road we’re walking is unprecedented, or so we hear. In truth, the road we’re walking is well worn. Our ancestors traveled it. They found what we all find—it’s harder than we thought. The journey almost destroys us. We fall apart.
But as we lift our eyes above the road, we see something reassuring and ironic: when our lives are falling apart, God is holding them together.
His hands are stronger than ours are—infinitely so. We don’t know how all this ends. We only know where all this ends: in the mighty hands of Jesus. It’s up to him to determine how.
“When our lives are falling apart, God is holding them together.”
He knows what this suffering is like. He’s been there before, too. He walked the road of suffering. He faced sickness and healed it. He faced injustice and broke it. He faced crisis and overcame it. The things we fear most, Jesus conquered for us. In so many ways today, we are going where Jesus has gone.
The journey doesn’t end though. Jesus’ path leads on beyond this world, far into the depths of God. He’s the forerunner on our behalf (Heb. 11:20). In this world, we don’t know what the days, weeks, and months ahead will hold. Our expectations change daily.
Once, like Bilbo, we woke up to a good morning with a shining sun and green grass. But now? We’ve learned to always expect trouble.
THE BRIGHT MORNING STAR
Many of us wake us these days with troubled hearts. Our good mornings are gone. The sunshine feels dull. The grass withers and fades.
The Bible tells us, however, that the word of the Lord stands forever (Is. 40:7–8). His word to us in these uncertain times are everlasting and sure: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Ps. 30:5).
Gandalf asked Bilbo why the morning was good. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" Bilbo’s answer was all of the above. It was a pre-journey answer, full of naivety.
“As good as our mornings of yesterday were, the mornings in the future are, in Christ, infinitely better still.”
Though the journey is long and difficult, his statement rings true. As good as our mornings of yesterday were, the mornings in the future are, in Christ, infinitely better still.
Those days are coming. I know because Jesus is the bright morning star (Rev. 22:6). Looking to him, our journey takes on a different ethos. Yes, this world feels apocalyptic. But after the apocalypse comes new creation. After pain comes healing. After sorrow comes joy. In an uncertain world, we have the certainty of God.
We once learned to expect trouble because the days were uncertain. Now, with Christ as our anchor, we can learn to expect joy—even if it’s not here yet—because he has made it certain.
David McLemore is an elder at Refuge Church in Franklin, Tennessee. He also works for a large healthcare corporation where he manages an application development department. He is married to Sarah, and they have three sons. Read more of David’s writing on his blog, Things of the Sort.